Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet No. 22 (2 page)

We'd met back in the Cluster, when we were both training for this voyage. Idra and I had been grown for this mission, but we still had to train and prove ourselves. Basic safety stuff, mostly, since the City can't replace us if we get ourselves killed out here. Idra was the only other one, besides me, in our class who'd asked about other stuff, like how the City navigated and how the power grid worked (or failed to, sometimes).

I'd started hanging out with Idra between classes, and we'd laugh at the silly questions some of the other dailys asked, about how to get face-paste in the City. I'd thought yr and I would always share everything, until the City launched and y fell in love for the first time, with an outringer. Ever since then, it was one crush after another, putting Idra in an elliptical orbit away from me and then back to me when it fell apart. I'd mostly gotten used to it.

"You know,” I told Idra when we were dressing afterwards. “There are only two reasons people are so love crazy around here. Because the only children in the City are the dormant embryos in the breedpods, waiting for planetfall. And because it helps us forget we're stuck at the bottom of the heap forever."

"If you talk to Dot like that, be'll drop you like a used snot-catcher,” Idra told me. Y had a warning look in yr eyes and mouth, but yr nose wrinkled the way it always did when I made ym laugh.

"That's a good idea,” I said. “Maybe I'll try that."

Actually, here was my problem. I wanted to say no to Dot, but be never gave me a chance. Be never even asked me if I wanted to pair-bond with ber, or go live in the Pilot Quarter, or whatever. Be just kept sending little crystal cameos, serenading me from a safe distance, paying other dailys to make little delicacies for me. (A pilot wouldn't know how to cook to save ber life.) Be never came close enough for me to respond.

And yet, I was cruel. I was coy. I tormented Dot. Or so Dot claimed, and so the balladeers announced to the whole City. I was killing a pilot, one of only 500 in the whole City, with my coldness. Had anyone ever been as cruel as me? In the entire history of the City, and the Cluster before that? Speaking of which, I was famous enough now that my sibs back in the Cluster were going to hear about this.

"I don't get it,” I told Idra. “What am I supposed to do anyway? When be threw all those bright catsilk bandannas down to me from the upper walkway, I tried to avoid catching them, but you guys grabbed them for me. How am I supposed to respond?"

"Write back,” Idra said. “Write a poem, or if you can't manage that, a regular letter. I'll tight-beam it for you. You don't even have to write it yourself, I'll write it for you."

Oh, Idra. I never wanted to be you, but I always want to be with you. I certainly never wanted you to want to be me.

"Can I write a letter asking ber to leave me alone?"

"It'll just make ber try harder. Or maybe be'll go away permanently, throw berself into the boides’ radiation zone. You can't trifle with love, Mab. Love is the most powerful force in the universe. Love is unstoppable, unfathomable."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Love. Got it."

I have no idea how long Dot could have gone on courting me, showering me with tears from those massive eyes. I took the initiative. I sent Dot a message telling ber to meet me in one of the song-booths in the dailys’ quarter, where my sibs go to have furtive sex with other dars.

Dot wrote back, a dozen sonnets filled with leaping jubilation that I would hear ber suit in person. But couldn't we meet someplace more romantic? Someplace more beautiful? There were some lovely little restaurants in the pilot quarter. (I knew that, since I'd worked in their kitchens.) Or we could sail a skimmer around the edge of the Outring, on dalfur cushions, with a flarinelle trio playing to us.

"Sorry,” I wrote back. “You come to me, or no meeting."

I booked a song-booth and paid for it myself. Instead of some schlocky flarinelle music, I ordered up a couple hours of the most raucous slash-and-grab, the stuff they're always threatening to ban. I got there early, so I'd be sitting with my feet up when Dot got there.

I'll let you pretend you've never been inside a song-booth. Basically they're coffin-shaped, with a bench running lengthwise and a big screen overhead showing patterns or dumb holo-stories. Big speakers at either end. Unless you're really tall, you can just about sit on the bench if you scoot down, but eventually it becomes easier to lay on it lengthwise, which is what it's really there for. Nobody ever goes there to listen to music and watch pretty colors, unless they're really, really dumb.

Dot had feathers all over ber slender body. There are no birds in the City, of course, and I've never even seen a bird. But I've cleaned up feathers and had a chance to examine them. They're synthetic, but intricate, with little strands that catch the light.

I hadn't seen Dot up close since our first meeting. I'd forgotten quite how delicate and lovely be was, how elegant those little bones. I wasn't prepared for the sudden awakening of my harnt and the tightness inside my stomach.

"Oh Mab! Oh my Mabirelle! You do so much kindness to my poor faltering heart!” Dot had obviously memorized tons of this crap.

"Shut up and listen,” I said. “I've figured out why you're doing this."

"There is no reason, other than your beauty, which so dazzles my eyes that all other sights are cataracted to me."

"I said shut up. And sit down, you're making me nervous.” I gestured at the greasy cushion next to me. “So here's what I think: you're doing this for attention. You were losing status, or playing some pilot game that the rest of us don't even grasp, and you decided to make yourself the hero in some epic love story. The pilot who fell in love with a daily against all odds. They'll sing about you forever, if you don't get thrown out of the upper rings for sullying your honor. It's a gamble, but you're a shrewd one. Am I right?"

"Oh, my Mabirelle. Your wisdom is second only to your beauty, which far surpasses the brightest jewels. But no, you're wrong. There's no purpose to my love other than love itself. And no cure for my love other than your love returned to me."

"I was afraid you'd say that. Okay, let's go. I'll do you right here."

"But I—That's not what I—"

"If it'll end this. Come on, get all those feathers off you. I've never seen a pilot naked. I'm curious."

And I was curious. It's weird that pilots are the opposite of dailys, but most of us never get to see what they look like under their fancy ruffles. I helped Dot out of ber five (!) layers of clothing, and slowly ber body revealed itself. Be stared at me, terrified, as I ran my hands over ber.

Naked, Dot was even more gorgeous than dressed. I couldn't stop swallowing. Be was all long sinews and soft skin. Ber body was much the same shape as mine, or any other human, but slender where mine was stout. And be had all those extra appendages, where I only had holes.

"What does this one do?” I pointed to a long vine that curled out from Dot's sternum.

"It's, uh, it's my zud, for manning a spirer. They have an opening on that part of their bodies just for pilots, called the duz. It takes three days, and there are fifteen required positions.” It went on like that. The three bony prongs sticking out just below ber stomach were for manning a breeder, and ber thighs had matching lumps, which could expand to man an outringer. No matter what your dar, Dot had a way to man you. Just like I could woman to all the other dars.

"Don't you want to see my, uh, my tharn?” Dot gestured to ber lower back, where the outie that matched my innie was quivering with excitement. Be started to turn around, but I stopped ber. Just being so close to ber naked body was making my harnt throb, opening and closing spasmodically like a busted airlock.

"Not really,” I said. “There's no rush. And I'm curious.” I tried stroking some of the tendrils and spokes coming from the front of Dot's body. Dot moaned with pleasure, but they didn't grow any bigger, because I was the wrong dar to excite them. Pheromones.

"Don't you want me to, uh, to man you?” Dot looked from ber naked body to the quicksuit I was still wearing. It kept ber from seeing that my lumbar region was soaked.

"Nope. I don't woman. But I'll man you if you want."

I didn't think it was possible for Dot's eyes to get any bigger, but they did. Ber eyes were as big as my thumbs.

"Pilots always man, dailys always woman. That's just how it is."

"That's not how I play. You have openings. I have tools. And fingers.” My pinky was almost too big for Dot's mouth, but I made it fit. Be sucked on it, half moaning and half gulping. I felt like I was going to implode, I was so skin-crazy.

I left Dot naked and flushed, thanking me through bewildered tears. No more poetry, thank god.

I figured after that, Dot would leave me alone. I might have an even worse reputation than before, depending on what people heard. But that could be a good thing, and maybe some of the dailys would respect me a little more when they heard I'd manned a pilot.

I had to giggle to myself when I thought those words. I manned a pilot! Whatever came next would totally be worth it.

"You did what?” Idra hissed. Y dragged me further away from the other dailys, just in case they had super-hearing. We were in the noisiest canteen, with the crispiest deep-fried bog-oysters. (Don't tell anyone I told you this, but those things aren't oysters. They grow on the coolant ducts, they're a kind of fungus.) The canteen's walls had been bright red when we'd left the Cluster, but by now they were maroon, and the floors were sticky no matter how much we mopped.

"You heard me.” I giggled again. Normally, Idra was the giggler and I was the frowner. Oh, this was so worth it.

"How could you? I always knew you were ... unnatural. But this? You could be killed! You could be killed and nobody would ever say anything. Stop laughing, Mab! I don't know what I'd do. I don't want to lose you. If Dot tells anyone, if be even whispers it, they'll just erase you! I couldn't bear that. Mab, why didn't you think about me before you went and threw everything away?"

It went on like that, Idra keeping yr voice low enough that none of the other dailys had a clue. It was so weird, I had to go and man a pilot to find out that Idra loved me too. Love might be too strong a word, but whatever. You get the idea.

"Idra, calm down. Be's not going to tell anyone. What's be going to say?"

"Exactly. What is be going to say? Think about the position you put ber in. After weeks of public courtship, you agreed to meet ber in private. Everyone is going to want to know what happened. And be is going to say ... what? That you manned ber? That be manned you? That you rejected ber? What?"

Why did things have to be so complicated? Be wanted me, so I took ber. Why wasn't that the end of it? But even as I was reassuring Idra that everything was fine, I felt another sensation, as unfamiliar as my harnt's opening had been. They could erase me any time they wanted. I felt weak inside.

"Oh chaste Mabirelle! Oh cruel, virtuous Mabirelle, that withstood temptation's nearness with yr far-seeing gaze! How can we praise your inviolate harnt, O Mabirelle?"

I was as shocked as anyone else. Apparently, I wasn't a crazy slut, I was a chaste virgin. Who had cruelly denied Dot's advances even though we were in a tiny padded and sound-proofed tube. Though Dot importuned me, I preserved my virtue. Dot proved this by showing someone that ber tharn retained its outer membrane, which meant it had never been inside me.

I didn't even know that a pilot's tharn had an outer membrane. You learn something new every day.

As the story went, I had arranged the song-booth meeting as an elaborate test to see if Dot could respect my chastity in such close quarters. As if Dot would have been capable of overpowering me anyway! And now that Dot had passed the test, I had agreed to hear ber pair-bonding proposal.

I was grateful to Dot for coming up with an explanation of the facts that didn't require anyone to toss me into the Inner Axis. But proposals? The way Idra explained it, I wasn't committed to pair-bonding with Dot, just hearing ber suit.

Nobody even knew how pair-bonding would work between a pilot and a daily. It wasn't very likely that I'd be able to go live with Dot, and the idea of Dot trying to share my bunk in a room full of twenty dailys made me giggle. With no children and no property, it was mostly a fancy license for Dot and me to do what we'd already done in that song-booth. Except maybe the other way around.

So this time I had to go up to the pilot quarter, where the air is purer and the gravity lighter. Gleaming star-charts on all the walls, varvet covering every surface. I had to keep ducking to avoid the little nozzles spraying perfumey crap and aromatherapy at me. I usually wore my bandanna around my mouth and nose when I cleaned around here, but I figured Dot might take it as an insult.

"Hey,” I said to Dot. “Thanks, for coming up with a good story. You're good at that, huh? Telling stories. I have to kick myself to keep from believing the stuff you say about me, and I know myself pretty well."

Dot started saying it was all true, and then some. Be wore even more layers than last time, if that was possible, and sat cross-legged on the edge of a massive crescent-shaped couch on the edge of a fake gravity well. You could toss things into it and watch them shrink to a singularity, but it was just an illusion. Dot didn't need to wear the extra buckles, since I would hardly molest ber with five chaperones watching us from just outside earshot.

"Anyway, I'm grateful to you. Which is why I'm here,” I said, sitting a decent distance away from ber on the crescent thingy.

"Mabirelle, because I love you so, I want to be totally honest with you,” Dot said. That sounded like a good idea, so I nodded. Be went on: “I told you the truth before, when I said there was no hidden agenda here. But there is something you don't know. Can you keep a secret?"

"You have no idea how many secrets I've kept,” I said. “You can trust me, don't worry."

Dot had to pause to offer me chocolates and little cameos, and order up fancy music. Then be went on. “The spirers think they've developed a much more accurate long-range scanning technique by combining stellar resonance and high-spectrum ghosting.” Be waited for me to murmur my understanding, then went on. “We think it's dead."